"I ain't romancin'. I was just wonderin'. An' I ain't the only person in town askin' the question, neither," retorted Mrs. Gill with a sniff. "There's scores of others. In fact, I figger the thought is the uppermost one in the minds of 'most everybody."
Abbie laughed.
"Mebbe. In fact, I reckon 'tis," conceded she. "It's the thought that come to everyone quick as Jason was buried. 'Course, 'twouldn't be decent to own it—an' yet I don't know why. Folks 'round about here are fond of Marcia an' feel she's been cheated out of what was her rightful due. They want her to begin anew an' have what she'd oughter have had years ago—a good husband an' half a dozen children. There's nothin' to be ashamed of in a wish like that. I ain't denyin' there are certain persons who are more self-seekin'. I ain't blind to the fact that once Jason was under the sod, 'bout every widower in town sorter spruced up an' began to take notice; an' before a week was out every bachelor had bought a new necktie. Eben Snow told me so an' he'd oughter know bein' the one that sells 'em."
"Abbie!"
"It's true. An' why, pray, shouldn't the men cast sheep's eyes at Marcia? Can you blame 'em? She'd be one wife in a hundred could a body win her. There ain't a thing she can't do from shinglin' a barn down to trimmin' a hat. She's the match of any old salt at sailin' a boat an' can pull an oar strong as the best of 'em. Along with that she can sew, cook, an' mend; plow an' plant; paper a room. An' all the time, whatever she's doin', she'd bewitch you with her smile an' her pretty ways. It's a marvel to me how she's kept out of matrimony long's this with so many men millerin' 'round her."
"She certainly's takin' her time. She don't 'pear to be in no hurry to get a husband," smiled Rebecca.
"Why should she be? Her parents left her with money in the bank an' the Homestead to boot, an' Marcia was smart enough not to let Jason make ducks and drakes of her property. She dealt out to him what she thought he better have an' held fast to the rest. As a result, she's uncommon well-off."
"All men mightn't fancy havin' a wife hold the tiller, though."
Rebecca Gill pursed her lips.